Do this thing with me
by My Only Carriage
Summary: LL. Season 5. Possibly more than a one-part story. Schmoopy fluff.


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Disclaimer:** I own nothing except a half-eaten almond Snickers bar and am not making a profit here.

**Story Status:** This is theoretically one of those stories which could be extended into a multi-part monster, but I am not sure at this point that I will go down that route. I like to leave a little bit to the imagination of the reader.

**A/N:** Thank you for all your kindness with respect to reviews. I am honored and amazed.

Off we go!

* * *

"You don't wear enough t-shirts." She admonished him as they lay on her bed, sprawled over it and over each other.

"It's cold in the diner. The door keeps opening, people are in and out every 5 minutes."

"But you look so pretty in them."

"All the more reason not to wear one, then."

"You could be a little more revealing is all I'm saying."

She scooted over so her head was resting on his chest, and he stroked her hair absentmindedly while he studied her ceiling. It was an older house, without speckling or a pattern of plaster, so there wasn't much to look at, but then again, it's not as if he could concentrate on any single thing at the moment.

"I'm not going to be one of those guys who gets a silk shirt and then he wears it unbuttoned down to his pants with a really obnoxious gold chain."

"Bling bling." She supplied.

"And hair protruding like I'm some kind of gigolo right out of the '70s."

"Okay, hideous mental image."

He looked down at her as she wound her fingers through the dark, coarse hair of his chest.

"Next thing I know, you'll be telling me to wax."

She smiled against his burning skin. "Would you?"

"Then some other woman would get to see me shirtless and manhandle me."

"Good point, you get to stay furry."

"It's not that bad."

"You're beautiful." She told him playfully and she didn't even have to look up to know he's blushing and thinking of a way to evade the subject entirely.

"Thank you?" He finally said when he couldn't come up with anything witty.

"I don't want to be vain..."

"But?"

"But we're a pretty couple." She sighed. "We look good together, like we match, but not in a creepy way where you'd think I was your sister or something. We are very attractive, we're still young, we're in shape, well read and geniunely delightful!"

"Me? The town loner?"

"That's why you've got me, to draw you out of that box you've categorized yourself in."

"Mmm, no, you come in my little box and we can play."

His voice was husky and full of promise as he rolled over until he was on top of her and she laughed, scraping her manicured nails against the chest that had just been a major point of discussion between them.

"Beautiful." She whispered and licked a trail down his neck before sucking on his collarbone.

"You talk too much." He murmured and then proceeded to render her speechless.

* * *

It was late fall, about to turn into winter and Lorelai knew the first snowfall was coming. She was determined to have Luke with her when it happens, so they could experience the magic together and then after rolling around in it, they'd have to of course get out of their wet clothes and the fastest way to warm up is by leeching off somebody else's body heat.

They'd have Thanksgiving together, like they've done for so many years, but also unlike all those years, because it's the first dinner she'll have that day and the most important one.

That's when she realized exactly how much of a family member Luke was. She'd always considered him to be more than just a casual friend, and the holidays only emphasized it for her. But this year she could wake up and look at him for a long time because she suddenly had the right to ogle, and he'd be hers and he'd make dinner mostly for her, the way she liked it and she'd get to hug him impulsively and maybe even drag him to her parents' house as an ally.

He was still Luke and she was still Lorelai and yet the world was completely different than it was last year.

Most of their nights were spent together. At first, he'd stay home on days when he closed the diner really late, not wanting to disturb her after midnight, knowing full well she is cranky in the mornings. So, he'd take his time cleaning up after the customers, wiping down the tables and locking up before retreating upstairs, only to find a barrage of messages on his answering machine.

"Luke, I'm bored."

"It's really cold here and I know you've got the warm feet..."

"I'm alone, and I want you, please come and do this _thing_ with me."

"Rory's not answering her cell phone and I have nobody to talk to about the Kenneth Cole boots I got on sale this afternoon. Wanna see them?"

"Luke, I'm wearing just the boots. Come over right now. I know you're there..."

And so he'd give in, night after night until he realized that he might as well just go straight there when he's done, that she'd wait up for him and even when she was already asleep, she'd still welcome him into her arms.

One such night, he came home (that's how he thought of it now) and she was waiting for him, sitting on her couch in a soft yellow terrycloth robe with a moon and a star etched over her breast. Earlier on she'd taken a long shower, mentally going over a complaint she'd gotten at the Inn resulting in some free vouchers, an argument she subsequently had with Sookie and a screeching conversation with her mother that reminded her of every single reason she'd left home at 16. Her car's timing belt had gone, which wasn't a surprise at all considering the high mileage, but the bill left her deflated, briefly considering buying something new just so she could forget about repairs and the hassle of finding a rental. She looked exhausted and so he tried to absorb some of her stress in a long, comforting hug. She fell against him and let him hold her up.

"You're early." She said gratefully, sniffling into his shirt.

"I'm sorry I'm late. Busy night." He admitted ruefully.

"Nah. Perfect timing."

He looked down at her face, at the lines that revealed her age and her stress and made her that much more beautiful to him. She smiled a tiny smile and kissed the stubble of his jaw.

"Long day at the Inn?"

She just nodded against his neck and he kissed the top of her head.

"Okay, let's get you to bed. I'll make you some tea, if you'd like. Warm you up a bit."

"You warm me up." She murmured.

"That can be arranged."

She grunted, not too pleased at the idea of herbal drinks at this hour, nor at any other hour she could think of.

"Orange-peach flavoured. It's fruity. I taste tested it for you earlier - you'll like it."

"You know me so well."

"You're still a mystery to me."

"Oooh, romantic."

"I'll get you the tea."

"With sugar cubes all melted inside?"

"Sure." He smiled.

"Three of them?" She asked and her voice sounded so small, like a little girl in her father's arms, hoping she was good enough and he was proud of her and he approved of her. She was so shy that night, and it struck him that when you stripped down her defenses and took away the caffeine, she was so quiet, so reserved, so openly affectionate and brutally honest.

"Will you be able to sleep?"

"Mmmhmmm...love sleep."

"Okay then. Go on up, I'll bring you a cup in a minute."

"You have to let it seep for at least three." She reminded him. He, a tea expert, and she, someone who'd only started drinking it when he kept bringing various assorted boxes of it into her house in the last couple of months.

"It'll be the best you've ever had." He promised her. That was a lofty goal.

She sighed happily and pulled away to let him go.

"Luke?" She called his name and he turned around, already having made it as far as the archway to the kitchen.

"Yeah?"

"I'm in love with you." She blinked a couple of times and he thought her eyes might be a little moist at the corners.

He'd thought about this day, knowing it was coming, but he always imagined it would be over a special dinner, they'd both make the effort to get dressed in their most flattering clothes, share a bottle of expensive vintage wine and romance each other. But here he was in his usual flannel, and old jeans and she in a worn robe, and it was the most perfect moment he could remember.

"I'm in love with you too." He told her quietly. "And it's an honor."

* * *

Halloween passed and Lorelai even managed to convince Luke to put up headstones in her front yard that they both spent hours etching. From Anna Karenina to Marie Antoinette, various segments of the literary and historical populations made their presence known.

They gave out entirely too much candy, despite Lorelai's insistence to keep the good stuff for herself.

"I bought you your own batch." Luke promised her, and came through on that. She had miniature Snickers all over her office, Hershey bars at home and Gummi Bears in the glove compartment of her car.

The Inn was doing far better financially than she'd imagined, but it was Sookie's restaurant that brought in consistently great revenue and Lorelai found herself, in the middle of November, with a sizeable cheque in her hand. A pre-Thanksgiving bonus they were all sharing, and a way for her to have real, numerical proof of her success.

"Come away with me." She told Luke at the diner that night. It was a slow night, most people were at the high school play and wouldn't trickle in for food until later.

"Norah Jones?" He guessed correctly. "She wasn't on the list."

"How do you know _that_?"

"I bought every CD on that list. Including all the Greatest Hits ones and the live compilations."

"No, how do you know it's her CD? Is that what you listen to? Is that 'Luke' music?"

He just gave her a look, the one he reserved for such inflammatory statements.

"Nicole had it."

"Oh."

He shrugged. "It was boring. Don't tell me I have to go down to Borders and buy another one."

"You're safe with me." She smiled warmly. "I was actually thinking about going away, you and I. For a weekend, or a week..."

"Really? The Inn?"

"Is making money."

"And you don't need to be here?"

"I think my staff would prefer me not to be." She laughed, but still rolled her eyes to express clearly that she didn't wholly agree with them. "Plus, we've not really had that kind of time with each other, as a couple."

He cocked his head to the side, thinking about the proposition. They'd fallen into this relationship easily, spending most of their time together, but she had a new business to run and he was as busy as always. Since he'd spent most of the summer with Liz and TJ, they never got their honeymoon period, and although there were many lazy Saturday mornings which turned into Saturday afternoons before either of them could be coaxed out of bed, and even so, only as far as the shower, together, he did see her point.

"What were you thinking of?" He finally asks and her eyes light up.

"Really?"

"Yeah, sure. Why not, right?"

She clapped her hands together, and it was obvious to him that she'd thought about this long and hard, probably all day before approaching him.

"Okay, but I have one major request."

"I don't want to see Tom Jones in Vegas, even as a joke." He forewarned her.

"We will not be going to the land of Celine Dion, fear not."

"Alright then, what is it?"

"My treat."

"The trip? No way."

"Yes, yes way."

"No, come on."

"I have money, I come bearing gifts..." She started.

"I'm not lining up at the welfare office." He points out and despite the cheque weighing heavy in her purse, she is fully aware of the fact that he's got much more impressive savings than she does. And that they're actually invested in the Inn.

"Yes, but some extra, and unexpected funds happened to land in my lap this afternoon. And it's not just that I feel like I owe you, but I do. You lent me a lot of money, you've spent countless hours fixing things at my place, for which you were neither paid back for the fruits of your labour nor for the supplies you used up, and I'm sure Rory's and my tab at the diner is well into the thousands by now."

"I would feel weird about it."

"Why, because you're the guy?"

"No, because we've always done things halfway."

"So next year, on our anniversary you'll take me to Paris. Or better yet, Amsterdam."

"Red light district?"

"We've got to leave our puritanical colonies sometime."

Luke crossed his arms and leaned over the counter.

"Say I agree to this."

"I have the perfect place. Because while I'd love to take a week off, I can probably only manage an extended weekend."

"Makes sense."

"The Bahamas!" She exclaimed.

He looked at her uncertainly. Images of gold Speedos entered his mind almost immediately.

"Paradise Island."

"Oh no, not where Nick and Jessica went!"

"How did you _know_ that?" She asks, bewildered.

"You made me watch that episode with you. More than once, I might add."

"I did? Wow, I'm better than I thought."

"Apparently."

"So, I don't know, are you in? Maybe right after Thanksgiving? I'd like to be here for that, because you'll make me extra gravy, won't you?"

"Mine is a heavy cross to bear."

"Have you ever seen my bikini?" She asked playfully.

He swallowed hard. "No. But I presume I will if we go?"

"Mmmm, you just might."

* * *

He left all the planning to her, because he knew when she got her heart set on something, she'd go after it like a dog with a bone. That was one of the things that endeared him to her - that uncanny way in which she demonstrated her self-determination, and the survivor spirit she showed again and again.

Lorelai was giddy about the upcoming holidays, what would be the briefest of vacations, the first snowfall and having Rory back for Christmas break. When she thought of her relationship with Luke, the thoughts were always deeper than the mere surface stuff. There were days she seriously contemplated asking him if he'd ever be interested in going back to college part time. It's something she still felt she'd like to do, and she knew that his father's death was untimely, and played a huge role in determining Luke's path, much like Rory's birth determined hers. But they were older and wiser now, and planning for a joint future didn't leave her frightened, although it left her breathless with wonder and opportunity.

For all of their worries in the beginning, they'd settled into a comfortable existence. Lorelai didn't run away, and Luke didn't obsess and hover. It was a bit like taking a chance in buying a new stock, one with a questionable past, and whose projections weren't too great. But you'd front load your mutual funds anyway, and hope for the best. And then the quarterly dividend arrived and you would jet down to the nearest Lexus dealership.

That was Luke and Lorelai.

And it was this Lorelai who got up on a bright, yet cool Wednesday morning, Luke already long gone to the diner, and she got ready, wore minimal make up because she felt happy and thought she may have that natural healthy relationship glow. She was also picking up the habit of becoming nearly punctual and was even running 4 minutes early this morning, although she would grudgingly admit it was a late day, one where she wasn't expected at the Inn until 10.

The moment she had her front door locked, and whipped around to make a casual stroll to her car, she was offered a hesitant hello.

"Christopher."

"In living color."


End file.
